


And beneath the night lights of this neon motel, I will forgive you

by meanderingmirth



Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M, Polyamory, brothers!Sanghyuk & Hakyeon, road trip au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 15:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5831425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meanderingmirth/pseuds/meanderingmirth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three days after Sanghyuk begins his last real summer vacation, his older brother Hakyeon ‘disappears’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And beneath the night lights of this neon motel, I will forgive you

**Author's Note:**

> please note that this fic features elements of polyamory! the songs for this piece are: 2ne1′s “Come back home” and BTS’s “Run”~
> 
> some sceneic imagery was inspired by [this excellent post](http://roachpatrol.tumblr.com/post/121974900047/things-you-will-see-on-a-road-trip-across-america/)
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> [Vietnamese translation](https://leeji98.wordpress.com/2016/08/12/transfic-rabinhyuk-and-beneath-the-night-lights-of-this-neon-motel-i-will-forgive-you/) by LeeJi

 

He comes home from the pool that afternoon, skin reeking of chlorine and hair drying in stuck-up tufts all over his head, and hears his parents arguing over the phone for the first time in a long while.

“And how would I know where he’s gone?” his mother snaps, her cell phone trapped between her ear and shoulder as she storms around the kitchen, various objects balanced in her hands as she talks. A strand of hair has escaped her bun and she’s slipping on the linoleum flooring as she walks because she’s wearing pantyhose without slippers on. She pauses in the middle of the room, eyes narrowed and the lines around her mouth carving deeply into her face.

“Well, what good is yelling at me going to do?” she shouts back, and Sanghyuk moves silently into the living room. He sidesteps the large orange suitcase sitting in the entryway, strapped closed and properly tagged. “Just keep calling him or something! That seems to be the only thing you’re good at anyway.”

Sanghyuk fancies he hears his father’s retorts on the other side of the line, most definitely not polite words, judging by the way his mother flares her nostrils and tightens her grip on her phone.

“This is your problem,” she finally snaps, chucking whatever it was she’s holding into a large tote bag. “God knows what kind of shit you’ve done to upset him again, but this is your problem to solve. I’m going to miss my flight.” A pause, and then, “Well, I’m not the one who nearly drove my own son out the door with overbearing expectations, aren’t I? Figure it out! And Hakyeon isn’t here, so leave me alone!”

And that’s when Sanghyuk finally startles, jerking his head up to stare at his mother through the kitchen doorway. Hakyeon? They were talking about Hakyeon?

He hears his mother hang up and curse angrily under her breath. It’s probably not an ideal time to bother her right now, but Sanghyuk can’t tamper down on his curiosity. He walks out into the kitchen, and his mother’s gaze flickers up to him before returning to the screen of her phone. She looks vaguely guilty, but at the same time, she’s also long forgone trying to hide her arguments with his father the few times he calls.

“What happened?” he asks, staring at the angry flush in her neck. His mother shakes her head and shoves her phone inside her jacket, her expression morphing into a mixture of annoyance and worry.

“Your brother’s gone missing,” she says, which is a very unhelpful answer as a whole.

“What?  _How_?” Sanghyuk demands, watching her heft her carryon over her shoulder. “Where did he go? Why did dad call? Did he think Hakyeon would come here?”

“I don’t know,” his mom sighs. She walks out into the entryway and Sanghyuk follows her, suddenly desperate for a little more information. “Your father called quite suddenly, demanding to know if Hakyeon’s come here. As if,” she snorts, shaking her head as she slides a pair of loafers on. “Your brother didn’t show up to work two days in a row, and when your father went to check up on him, your brother’s housemate said that he left to go on a trip.”

She pauses her actions to make sarcastic air quotes with her fingers, and Sanghyuk can’t help but snort at that. His mom is funny at the strangest moments sometimes.

“In any case, he’s under the delusion that Hakyeon’s come here, for some reason. Hiding, or whatever. I  _told_  him that Hakyeon didn’t want a job at his god damn company,” his mom grouses. “But does he ever listen? Nope. And look where we are now.”

“So what’s going to happen?” Sanghyuk blurts out. His mother stops and heaves a sigh. Her gaze lands on the wall and she stares at it for a moment, unfocused.

“Your brother’s a grown man,” she reasons, more to herself than Sanghyuk. “He’s been working independently for a while now. Whatever it is he’s doing, I’m sure he’ll be fine. In any case,” she adds. “I’m really going to miss my flight if I don’t go now.”

“You’re leaving? Right now?” Sanghyuk asks, disbelieving, but he fidgets when his mother slants him a look. “Don’t just loaf around here all summer just because I’m gone for work these next two months. I’ll be back in the second week of September, so make sure you call your uncle before the first day of school so he can help you move into your dorm.”

“Right,” Sanghyuk mumbles, re-directing his gaze down to his bare feet. His mother sighs before reaching out to pat his cheek.

“Don’t worry so much about your brother,” she tells him. “Hakyeon will be alright. Try to find a part time job while you’re free, won’t you? And don’t play those video games all day. At least go to the pool or the skate park when you’ve got the time.”

“Yes, okay,” he answers, and his mother tuts fondly at him.

“And don’t set anything on fire!” she adds before striding out the front doors. A yellow cab he hadn’t noticed is idling by the curb, and he watches as the driver loads his mother’s luggage into the back. He waits until they drive off, hot exhaust pumping out of the back and headwaves rising from the heated engine in the front. The sun beats down on the driveway and roasts the limp, yellowed grass. Not a breath of wind stirs the unbearable heat, and after a moment, Sanghyuk retreats to the inside of his house when the hotness becomes too much to bear.

+

The first thing he does is try to call Hakyeon.

It’s a number he hasn’t called since maybe his first year of high school, around Christmas, because that was when his dad sent him a phone as a gift. Hakyeon had been the one to give it to him for the short duration he stayed at their home, during which he also left behind a ridiculous pile of his own things that their dad had apparently threatened to throw out. For a moment, Sanghyuk’s scared that he might not have saved his brother’s number when he switched phones later on, but to his relief the contact is still here, stored under Hakyeon’s name and the generic photo id his phone sets when there’s no contact picture saved. Ignoring how the weird, estranged anonymity of his own family member unsettles something within him, he taps the number and waits for the call to connect, listening intently while the tone drones on in his ear.

Five rings later, an automated voice tells him  _we’re sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service_ , and Sanghyuk can’t even say he’s surprised.

Hakyeon almost never picks up calls. He prefers other methods of outdated contact instead, which isn’t exactly helpful when the situation is an urgent one. Sanghyuk huffs and tosses his phone across the couch he’s sitting on, and regards it thoughtfully when it lands on the other cushion, thinking.

Despite what his father’s said, Sanghyuk doesn’t think Hakyeon’s missing. Gone, yes, but not missing— Hakyeon’s too smart for that.

He sits for another long while before wandering listlessly upstairs for a much needed shower, and when Sanghyuk steps out, smelling of fresh soap and feeling a little more capable now, the home phone rings.

He bolts out of the bathroom, into his bedroom, and snatches the phone out of the cradle at once, shouting “Hello?” into the receiver.

“Sanghyuk?” The voice is gruff. It’s not Hakyeon.

“Dad,” he says, and immediately grows uncomfortable. If his dad is calling their house twice about Hakyeon, things can’t possibly be good.

“Where’s your mom?” his dad asks, bypassing any kind of greeting, and Sanghyuk gives a cursory glance behind him. He’s not sure why he does that. It’s not like anybody will be inside his house.

“She left for the airport,” he answers honestly, just as his mother had said on the phone earlier, but his dad still swears. He thinks he hears a thump on the other end.

“For god’s sake, that woman— is your brother there?” his dad barks.

“No, he isn’t,” Sanghyuk replies. He sits down on his bed and leans against the headboard. Water droplets drip down his back from his wet hair.

“Are you sure?” his father snaps, and Sanghyuk could almost laugh. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“He really isn’t,” Sanghyuk answers. “I haven’t seen Hakyeon in years.”

There’s a lingering pause, and he gets the weird feeling that his dad is trying to suss him over over the phone. Finally: “Well, if he does drop by, give me a call, won’t you?” his father grumbles. “It’s important.”

“Alright,” Sanghyuk mumbles, and he knows it’s the last thing he’ll do even if by some miracle Hakyeon does show up on his doorstep. Suddenly, a thought occurs to him. “Hey, Dad— do you have Hakyeon’s home phone number, by any chance?”

“What? Yes,” his father replies, unable to hide his surprise. “Why?”

“Could I... have it?” Sanghyuk asks, lamely, and for a moment he thinks his father might refuse. But a second later, the man rattles off the ten-digit number, and Sanghyuk quickly scribbles it down on the back of his old agenda.

“Thanks.”

He gets a mixture of a grunt, another reiteration to call if Hakyeon arrives, and then an awkward silence before the line goes dead.

He doesn’t hesitate to call the new number immediately after that. The voice that answers is unfamiliar, but male and young.

“Hello, Minhyuk speaking.”

“Hi,” Sanghyuk begins. “Is, um, Hakyeon there?”

There’s a brief pause, and then the voice answers, a little guardedly, “Sorry, wrong number—”

“No! Wait!” Sanghyuk interrupts. “Are you Hakyeon’s roommate? This is Sanghyuk. I’m— I’m Hakyeon’s younger brother.”

Another moment of silence.

“Hakyeon’s brother?”

“Yeah,” Sanghyuk says, and unfurls his fingers from where he’s unconsciously tightened them on the edge of his mattress. “Do you know where he’s gone?”

“I don’t,” the man named Minhyuk answers on the other end. “Why are you asking?”

“I just— I have to know he’s okay,” Sanghyuk mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. He wonders how long Hakyeon’s had this roommate, and how close they were as friends. Sanghyuk’s never called, hardly kept in contact all these years; why should he be trusted?

“Your brother should be fine,” Minhyuk says. “He’s a capable dude.”

“Do you know why he left?” Sanghyuk asks. “I heard that it might be because of a disagreement between him and my father?”

He hears a shuffle, and then Minhyuk is saying quietly, “If you know that much, then I think you can guess the rest.”

Sanghyuk slumps against his pillows, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouths. “Yeah,” he mumbles, thinking back to his father’s call. No hellos, or goodbyes. Just about Hakyeon. “Yeah, I can.”

Minhyuk makes a vague noise before he suddenly sighs. “Okay, listen here, kid. It’s true your brother left. Your dad came by and nearly tore up our house trying to look for him. I had to threaten to call the cops before he finally left. I don’t know what happened, exactly, but it’s got something to do with them disagreeing at work. Hakyeon packed up a bunch of his things and told me he was taking a vacation for the time being. He’s still paying rent, though, so he’s coming back to our house.”

“Did he say where?” Sanghyuk asks. He finds that he can’t sit still anymore; he gets up and paces out of his bedroom and down the stairs.

“Yeah,” Minhyuk says. “He said he was staying at a guy named Taekwoon’s flat.”

That is not what he expected to hear. “Taekwoon? Jung Taekwoon?” Sanghyuk blurts out, confused. “Not Hakyeon’s ex boyfriend?”

“That’s the one,” Minhyuk sounds surprised. “You know him?”

“I know of him,” Sanghyuk says, gnawing his lip. Why is Hakyeon going to live with his ex again?

“Well, this simplifies things,” Minhyuk hums. “Hakyeon brought a plane ticket and went off two days ago. He should be settled in by now. I’ll probably be getting a postcard or something sooner or later.”

“Right,” Sanghyuk says, slowly. How far would Hakyeon have gone? The city his older brother and his dad resided in was a couple hours’ drive from his town. It was close enough for holiday visits, but not near enough for daily meet-ups. That was always the strange limbo between Hakyeon and himself— always there, but not close enough for them to really be there for one another. Even their age gap is an odd one; five years is close, but still a divide.

“Can you give me Taekwoon’s address?” Sanghyuk asks. “I want to go see Hakyeon.”

He gets a sharp inhale on the other end and a reluctant reply. “Look, it’s not that I don’t trust you, kid—”

“It’s fine if you don’t,” Sangyuk says quickly. “I— I know it’s weird, I mean, I’ve never called and never kept in contact with Hakyeon and suddenly I’m trying to find him, and he’s probably never even mentioned me so it was probably really weird to get a call from some random guy—”

“Oh, no, I know about you,” Minhyuk interrupts, and Sanghyuk cuts himself off mid-sentence.

“What?”

“Hakyeon always talked about you,” Minhyuk replies. “Your mom always sent him those wallet-sized photos you can order from those photo packages at school. He’s got a whole collection of those. Not sure if he took them with him when he left, though.”

“I... I didn’t know that,” Sanghyuk says quietly. He hadn’t expected that.

“... ‘kay, have you got a pen?” Minhyuk finally asks, and Sanghyuk perks up, daring to hope. “I’m only going to tell you Taekwoon’s address once, kid, so you better get it all down.”

A minute later, he sits on his bed, phone in one hand and an address scrawled on a sticky note in the other.  _62 Léon Avenue, Apartment Block C, Unit 10A_.

For a very long time, all Sanghyuk does is stare at it, wondering there’s anything he should do about this.

+

In the end, he’s not sure what possessed him to do it.

Yesterday, he had two empty months looming over him, blank calendar spaces devoid of any plans or extracurriculars excluding his daily swim at the outdoor pool and maybe a trip or two to the beach with his classmates once the lot of them got back from their vacations.

Today, he has to figure out how to travel over a good portion of the country via public transport, find Taekwoon’s place, find Hakyeon  _and_  return home in the next sixty-five days, assuming he figured everything out and left home tonight. When Minhyuk gave him Taekwoon’s address, Sanghyuk could already foresee difficulties in covering the distance of his travel. Then again, Hakyeon had flown to see his ex— what else should he have expected?

The selection of maps in the travel corner of the convenience store was just a mess of folded, colourful paper stuffed onto shelves in the back of the place, dusty and looked like it’d hardly been touched for years. He observes the various kinds of maps, ones for the highway, ones with tourist attractions marked on it, and others with routes for bus and train stops. He figures he’d pick up a few of those, but none of the maps seem to span out further than his city and the ones next to it— he’d have to grab several of them.

Sanghyuk’s reaching out to gingerly pluck one of the maps off the shelf when he feels a tap on his shoulder.

He turns, but no one is there, so he swivels the other way and nearly bonks heads with a very familiar face.

“Shit!” he yells, more in recognition than in actual shock. He leaps back and collides with another body that hadn’t been beside him earlier. Arms wrap around his waist and a low laugh resonates in his ear, and Sanhyuk knows without a doubt who it is that’s come to play tricks on him.

“Ha ha,” he deadpans, glaring at Hongbin first and then at Wonshik over his shoulder. “Funny. A classic.”

Wonshik flashes him a brilliant grin and tightens his arms around Sanghyuk’s middle, squeezing fondly.

“Long time no see, stranger,” his friend says, happy. “We couldn’t resist.”

“I’m sure,” Sanghyuk rolls his eyes, and Hongbin leans forwards to pull the map from his hands.

“What’s this?” he asks, a curious lilt in his voice as he flips the map over. “Are you planning on travelling?”

“Maybe,” Sanghyuk replies. He crosses his arms and lets his elbows rest on Wonshik’s arms, which still haven’t unraveled from him. It’s been a while since he’s seen Wonshik and Hongbin properly; come to think of it, the last time they hung out was last summer too, when the pair returned from university and summer classes to goof off with Sanghyuk in their hometown. He’s missed them, but at the same time, Sanghyuk’s also made peace with the fact that his best friends, two years older and generally subjected events like graduation and post-secondary schooling earlier than himself, aren’t always going to be around. However— he hadn’t expected to run into them so suddenly.

“Where’re you goin’?” Wonshik asks, jolting Sanghyuk out of his slow admiration of Hongbin’s new haircut, the done-up buttons of his yellow polo shirt and fitted white shorts.

“Somewhere,” Sanghyuk answers, and Hongbin flashes him a look.

“Are you planning on going cross-country or something?” he teases, arching a handsome eyebrow.

“Kind of,” Sanghyuk mumbles, and gets another squeeze to his abdomen.

“What, can’t tell us?” Wonshik asks, and Sanghyuk has to squirm out of his hold now— the feeling of Wonshik’s low voice by his ear is really making him shiver.

“It’s a long story,” he says, trying to take in the horrific clash of colours that is Wonshik’s patented style.

“We’ve got the whole summer,” Hongbin jokes. “Try us.”

He snatches the map back out of Hongbin’s hands and huffs, smoothing his fingers over the chalky texture of the paper. “I’m searching for my brother,” he says, and leaves it at that.

“Why?” Wonshik asks, predictably. There’s surprise on his face. “Is he missing?”

“Sort of,” Sanghyuk hums. “He got into an argument with my father and left. I found out that he’s gone to stay with his ex boyfriend, somewhere outside of the city he’s living in, so I’m trying to find a way to get there.”

“Is this the same brother who moved out with your dad when you were younger?” Hongbin says. They know of his family situation, which Sanghyuk’s relieved for, in a way. It saves him from going through the awkward context-setting he might have to lay out for a stranger. Not that he’d share this kind of information with anybody else, really.

“Yeah. Hakyeon.”

“Right,” Hongbin snaps his fingers, a look of recognition flashing across his face while Wonshik squints and says, “Who?”

“The guy who used to perform at all those elementary school talent shows,” Hongbin says, elbowing Wonshik in exasperation. “The one who dances? Remember?”

“Oh,” Wonshik blinks, and then grins sheepishly at Sanghyuk. “Sorry, it’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” Sanghyuk nods, looking down. “It has been a while,” he adds, and he’s not certain if he’s talking about seeing Hakyeon or Wonshik and Hongbin.

He sees the pair exchange looks in his peripherals, and then Hongbin clears his throat.

“We can help you with that, I think,” Hongbin says, and that catches Sanghyuk’s attention.

“How so?”

“Well, there’s something we were planning to do this summer,” Wonshik says, a little cryptically. “We tried it out during the winter break, and it worked out relatively fine, so we’re trying a longer version of it this summer. And it might get you to your brother’s ex’s place.”

“And what might that be?” Sanghyuk gives his friend a pointed look. “Unless you’re gonna surprise me by telling me you’ve been going to pilot school all this time—”

“A cross-country car trip,” Hongbin says, grinning. “For the full two months.”

“You were planning that?” Surprise strikes him, but the gears in Sanghyuk’s mind are already turning. If Wonshik or Hongbin could, and were willing, to drive him...

“We actually came back with the intention of seeing if you’d like to come with us,” Wonshik admits. “It’s been a while since we all really hung out, so I figured a trip together might be fun.”

“Yeah, stuffing three guys into your tiny car with a ton of luggage in the back,” Sanghyuk snorts. “We might end up demolishing our friendship instead.”

“Hey!” Wonshik complains. “First of all, my car isn’t tiny, you’re just too tall. And besides, don’t you know what they say? If you don’t kill your friends during an extended trip together, the friendship grows even stronger.”

“I tried to strangle him four times over what radio station to listen to during the winter trip,” Hongbin mutters to Sanghyuk. “It’s a god damn lie.”

“Whereabouts does your bro’s ex live?” Wonshik says loudly, elbowing Hongbin in the side. His eyes are bright when he slings and arm around Sanghyuk’s should and pulls him close, close enough for Sanghyuk to smell the detergent on Wonshik’s tank top and count the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “Let’s see if there’s a route there.”

+

And suddenly, it feels like his life is moving forwards again.

+

Their trip begins with Wonshik pulling up in his uncle’s old car: a cranky looking thing with some faded blue colouring and probably half a dozen odd custom jobs done over the years, but it’s been a while since he’s seen Wonshik’s car, and the nostalgia punches him in the gut before he realizes just how much he’s missed his friends. Sanghyuk stands from where he’d been sitting on the steps of his porch, fiddling with his phone and double checking all the things he could think of packing. The bag weighs heavily on his shoulders as he crawls into the back of Wonshik’s car and dumps his things amongst the bit of luggage crammed into the backseat.

It’s a lot smaller inside than he remembers.

“Where’d you get that bag?” Hongbin asks in lieu of a greeting. He’s got sunglasses perched on his nose and an iced coffee in hand. “I’ve never seen anything so retro in my life.”

“It’s not mine,” Sanghyuk says, giving the bag a pat. It looks bulky, but it was surprisingly spacey on the inside. “It was Hakyeon’s. He left it here a couple of years ago when dad threatened to throw out some of his stuff— I think this might’ve been the bag he used for mountain climbing.”

“Wicked,” Wonshik whistles in appreciation as he pulls away from the curb. “Didn’t peg him for the type to go traipsing around with goats and rocks.”

“He did a lot of things,” Sanghyuk says, waving his hand vaguely. “He’s the experimental type, I guess.”

“And now he’s trying a vanishing act too,” Hongbin mumbles. He rolls down the window, and Sanghyuk basks in the fresh morning breeze that blows into his face. “Strange guy.”

“He probably has his reasons,” Wonshik suggests. The buddha beads dangling from the rearview mirror sways as he rives down the main street. “Everybody needs to get away from home sometimes, right, Hyukkie?”

“Yeah,” Sanghyuk sighs, reclining in the lumpy backseat. “Probably.”

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Hongbin comments, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. They’re taking the ramp now, accelerating onto the freeway. Wonshik and Hongbin had hung out for dinner at his place yesterday night, during which they poured over some older maps and browsed the satellite views on Wonshik’s laptop. For such an extended trip, Sanghyuk felt that there was a rather spectacularly immense lack of planning involved overall, but Wonshik swore that that was how the best car trips usually came about. Hongbin, in between bites of pizza, had said that was how they usually got lost and would come home days later than planned.

“Shut off the radio for a sec,” Hongbin says, pulling out his phone. “I’m gonna call the bank and let them know I’m travelling so my card doesn’t get denied.”

“You have to do that for domestic travels?” Sanghyuk asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Better safe than sorry,” Wonshik jokes. “Hongbin’s usually our main source of money wherever we go, so it’ll be a real shame if we can’t access any of his allowance.”

“Right,” Sanghyuk laughs. Hongbin, the youngest in his whole family, is spoiled at every turn by his rich parents and sisters. He suspects Hongbin might’ve grown up as one of those unbearable rich kids if he wasn’t so naturally resilient to rich people bullshit.

“I ring them every time,” Hongbin grumbles, still waiting for his call to connect. “And you know what? They still cancel on me, every single time. I should launch a complaint.”

“Fat load of help that’ll do,” Wonshik snickers, and Hongbin whacks him in the shoulder without even looking up. They’re travelling with the tail end of the morning traffic rush on a dull Thursday, one of the in between days of the week, neither prominent or eventful. It’s just another day that needs to pass, Sanghyuk thinks to himself.

Just keep going on to that next day.

+

He falls asleep about an hour into the car ride, slumped at an uncomfortable angle against the door. He feels strangely drained even though he’s done nothing all morning. Maybe it was the residual nerves that kept him up past midnight the night before, the endless thoughts of  _why am I doing this_  and  _can I even do this_  running around in his head until he dozed off. Sanghyuk doesn’t resurface when they get stuck in another traffic jam, but Hongbin shakes him awake for a quick lunch at a bustling rest stop down the highway. They eat unhealthy fast food combos together until Wonshik takes Hongbin’s card and goes out to fill up the tank while they hover in front of the shelves in a convenience store tucked between a burger joint and a specialty wrap place. There’s tacky tourist merchandise everywhere, from baseball caps to metal keyrings and overpriced travel gadgets. Hongbin is picking snacks off the shelf, considering the options before him.

“We’re gonna be on the road for at least a week and a half,” Hongbin tells him. “Assuming the car doesn’t break down, Wonshik doesn’t get us lost, and we don’t end up making other stops for other reasons on the road. We might even have to take a break for a day or two, to get some rest.”

“Right,” Sanghyuk nods. He’s never been on a car trip for such a duration of time before— the longest he’s ever driven was for a six-hour trip that one year the swim team made it to the nationals. He has no idea what to expect from this.

“That’s why we need a wide variety of snacks,” Hongbin says wisely, stacking another bag of shrimp crackers into the pile in his arms. “You’ll go nuts from the dullness otherwise.”

“Duly noted,” Sanghyuk nods, solemn, and cheerfully picks out two six-packs of his favourite soft drink from the fridges when Hongbin bestows upon him the drink choosing privilege.

+

There’s also ample time to catch up with his friends in the duration of the ride. Hongbin and Wonshik major in different programs at the same university, and Sanghyuk’s intrigued about their year despite the lingering feeling of radio silence that stretched on for months between them.

“I’m still in the veterinary program,” Hongbin tells him, chewing on a veggie stick. “I applied for vet school this spring, but I didn’t make it.”

“I thought your dad wanted you to work for him,” Sanghyuk says. He’s kicked his shoes off, shoving them under Hongbin’s seat, and he wiggles his socked feet against the old magazines lying all over the floor.

“He did,” Hongbin snorts. “But I’m terrible with stuff like business and economics, what can I even do at his company? Besides, my oldest sister is a senior manager in his division, so he’s not completely heartbroken that I won’t take after him.”

“What’ll you do now, then?” Sanghyuk asks.

“I’m gonna finish up my fourth year and apply again next year,” Hongbin hums. "But if that doesn’t work out... well, internship is always an option still. I’ll just have to study harder.”

“His mom tried to talk him into taking summer school this year,” Wonshik snickers. “Hongbin had to wrestle his way out of it for this car trip.”

“Nobody is wrestling my mother, least of all me,” Hongbin retorts. “I talked to her politely and she agreed to let me take a break. Can’t fathom why she’d think I’d be safe in your hands though.”

“Well, she didn’t seem to think that me taking a gap year or switching majors all the time would influence you badly,” Wonshik shrugs. “I’m every mom’s favourite neighbourhood kid.”

“You’re mucking about in a pretty weird neighbourhood then,” Sanghyuk jokes, and Wonshik whines while Hongbin laughs and high-fives him loudly.

Yet, he can’t help but think about Hakyeon and his father, the parent who wanted his sons to work in his company and was met with severe resistance from one and saw utter disappointment in the other. He thinks about his mother too, how quickly she left for her overseas work before the issue with Hakyeon’s was even halfway solved, armed with her strong belief that Hakyeon will be fine and that, somehow, Sanghyuk would be okay too after finding out that his brother’s basically hauled ass away from their father.

“I’m gonna put some music on,” Wonshik announces to nobody in particular. He’s got his phone plugged into the port and he’s trying to scroll while driving. Hongbin huffs and snatches the device out of Wonshik’s hand, squinting at his set playlists with a critical eye.

“Watch the road before you kill us,” Hongbin complains, but Wonshik’s gaze flickers back up to the rearview mirror again, catching Sanghyuk’s eye with a familiar kind of sparkling mischievousness. It reminds him of Wonshik in high school, when he’d just gotten his licence and insisted on bringing Hongbin and Sanghyuk to places all over the city even though he still wobbled when changing lanes and made turns that were far too wide.

Nowadays, Wonshik merges into traffic smoothly with single-handed rotations of the wheel, and Sanghyuk silently ponders over just how much time has passed for them all.

+

They stop at a town when evening sinks in, leaving streaks of red and orange and yellow across the sky. It’s smaller than than the city Sanghyuk lives in, but it still takes a few tries for Hongbin to find what he deems is a ‘suitable’ hotel for them to stay at.

“I’m not going to go about splashing money just because I have an allowance,” Hongbin warns when Sanghyuk and Wonshik pretend to whine about not getting a five-star place to stay in. “Just grab your bags and go upstairs, for heaven’s sake.”

He showers because he gets the feeling that that kind of opportunity for hygiene maintenance might dwindle soon, and when Sanghyuk walks out of the bathroom, Wonshik and Hongbin have both commandeered one of the double beds and are lying side by side. There’s a familiarity to the way they lie beside each other that makes his heart flicker in his chest and forces him to look away. He makes a big show of flopping down onto his own bed, sighing as he spreads himself across the mattress.

“Yeah, rub it in, why don’t you,” Hongbin calls from the other bed as Wonshik rolls off and collets his things for a turn in the shower. “We’re going to rock-paper-scissors for single bed rights after this, so don’t get used to it.”

“Or get used to having a hotel at all,” Wonshik snorts. “I envision we’ll be sleeping in smaller motels and in the backseat of the car after this.”

“I’ll look forwards to that,” Sanghyuk deadpans. He reaches for Hakyeon’s bag and drags it closer, tipping it over for his charger. His stuff falls out one by one as he shuffles through it— folded shirts, travel toiletries, and something Sanghyuk has no recollection of packing yesterday night at all: a thick stack of envelopes, lumpy because of the envelopes’ varying sizes and weathered at the corners. It’s bundled together with some twine, wrapped up like a present and weighty when he picks it up with curiosity.

The address that’s penned onto the crinkled paper of the envelope on top is unfamiliar, but it’s got Hakyeon’s name on it, and suddenly, Sanghyuk is seized by the desire to unwrap everything.

The knot is tight under his fingers, pulled too harshly, and even Sanghyuk’s blunt nails digging into the curl of the knot doesn’t manage to loosen it. He bites his lip and stares down at the letters, considering them.

“What’s that?” Hongbin asks, and Sanghyuk looks over.

“Letters,” he says, holding the bundle in his hands. When Hongbin’s eyebrows go up, he clarifies: “Hakyeon’s letters. He must’ve left them in this bag... I didn’t notice until now.”

“Huh,” Hongbin says, staring. Then his face lights up and he rolls across the bed to grab Wonshik’s rucksack. He fishes around inside of it for a a moment before he pulls out Wonshik’s Swiss army knife. He passes it over to Sanghyuk, who flicks the blade out and slices deftly through the twine.

The letters spill over his lap, scattered now that they’re freed from their confines, and Sanghyuk gathers them back in order gingerly. Hongbin crawls over to his bed and takes the pile when Sanghyuk picks up the first letter in the stack. He traces over the slightly smudged ink and the peeling stamp before turning it over. The top is slit, but when Sanghyuk opens the envelope, there’s nothing but a small piece of paper inside of it. Frowning, Sanghyuk fishes it out.

It’s crinkled and it looks like it’s been ripped off in a haste, but there’s an address written on it in the same small-lettered handwriting on the outside of the envelope. It’s an address, one that Sanghyuk recognizes on sight now, and below it are the words: _send your letters to this address. I’ll receive them. -J.T._

“It’s from Taekwoon,” Sanghyuk says out loud. He turns the paper over, and finds nothing like he expected. He gets the feeling that this Taekwoon isn’t a man of unnecessary words.

“There’s a bunch of other stuff too,” Hongbin says, flipping through the pile. “Some postcards and other papers. What’ll you do with them?”

Sanghyuk sets the envelope off to the side and hesitates; he’d foolishly cut the twine, rendering it useless. After a moment’s deliberation, he grabs his bag of toiletries and pulls out the plastic ziplock bag holding his travel bottles of shampoo and body wash. Tearing it open, he empties everything out and holds it open for Hongbin, who slides the stack inside the plastic bag. It’s a tight squeeze, but it fits, and Sanghyuk seals it back up carefully.

“I guess I’ll hang on to them for now,” he says, staring down at it. “Give them back to Hakyeon when I see him again.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Hongbin agrees, nodding. “Your brother sure liked sending letters, eh?”

“Yeah,” Sanghyuk chuckles, shaking his head. “Nobody could get ahold of him over the phone, and even instant message was a bit of a stretch. But letters— he always made time for letters.”

“I guess he had his hobbies,” Hongbin says, bumping his shoulder with Sanghyuk’s, and Sanghyuk’s suddenly aware of how close he and Hongbin are sitting beside one another on the bed. He swallows and lowers his gaze, grazing the pad of his index finger over the soft corner of the torn paper.

“In any case, I’m certain I have the right address now,” he says instead. “Taekwoon sent Hakyeon a mailing address; it’s the same one his roommate gave me.”

“Well, that’s good news,” Hongbin chortles. He ruffles Sanghyuk’s hair as he stands, trying to shuffle his feet back into the complimentary slippers as he gets off the bed. “At least we know we’re headed in the right direction now.”

“Yeah,” Sanghyuk murmurs, eyeing the letters. He wonders just how much of his brother’s story is tucked away between paper and ink, and if the bundle’s unwitting partaking of this road trip might help him finally understand his dysfunctional family at all.

+

They start driving again early the next morning after sleepily chowing down the continental breakfast in the hotel’s dining room (Hongbin steals at least four bagels and a dozen packets of jam before they check out). Wonshik takes the wheel again and Sanghyuk picks the playlist this time. He fills the car with anime songs that makes Wonshik groan loudly.

“God, I’d forgotten how much you loved watching anime.”

“What do you mean, loved?” Sanghyuk smirks. “I still keep up.”

“Geek,” Wonshik retorts, but he doesn’t stop Sanghyuk when he turns the volume higher.

He settles back in his seat and kicks his feet up on the console, ignoring Hongbin’s exaggerated noise of disgust at his socked feet, and digs into his backpack. He pulls out the plastic bag of Hakyeon’s letters, cracks it open, and fishes out the second letter in the pile.

It’s got the same small handwriting, Hakyeon’s address on the side, and this time, an actual letter inside the envelope. Granted, it’s short, hardly longer than a paragraph, but at least it’s more than just an address.

_Hakyeon- I’ve checked with my boss, I should be able to get time off the week of your convocation. Do me a favour and actually email me the important info of it, won’t you? I keep on getting lost on your university’s website; it’s a pain to navigate. I’ll stay the week before flying back, since you probably have a bunch of plans lined up for us to do. I’ll let you know when I’ve booked tickets and such. You’re almost done. Hang tight. -J.T._

Convocation. Hakyeon’s graduation. That dates this letter at least three years back, because Hakyeon graduated two months before Sanghyuk finished his freshman year in high school. Incidentally, it was also two months before Wonshik and Hongbin graduated from his school as well, after their rather eventful first year of friendship.

“Are you reading your brother’s letters?”

Sanghyuk jerks up, and Hongbin is looking at him over the shoulder of his seat.

“Maybe,” Sanghyuk replies, folding up the letter Taekwoon had sent. He packs everything away again, feigning an innocent smile. Hongbin shakes his head.

“You little rebel,” he tuts. “Would your brother be okay with that?”

“I dunno,” Sanghyuk shrugs. “Bit too late, though, I already started reading.”

“You could just stop,” Wonshik points out, laughing.

“Hey, I have to spend a minimum of ten days on the road. I might as well keep myself occupied,” Sanghyuk shoots back, crossing his arms.

“Touché,” Wonshik replies, shaking his head. His smile is bright, and Sanghyuk aches a little when he looks at him.

A car changes lanes a little too closely on their right, and Hongbin huffs, scowling at the meandering vehicle.

“That’s cutting it close,” he comments to nobody in particular, but the roar of the highway seems to surround them in response anyway.

+

It takes almost five more days of driving for them to really leave the city behind. They stop for refuels whenever three-quarters of the tank depletes, and Wonshik and Sanghyuk alternate paying for meals with their own money because Hongbin’s generous enough to cover the more costly expenses with his card. He ingests too many crackers and chips in one sitting and has to switch over to overly-sweet, sun-dried fruits stuffed in sealed plastic bags claiming tropical origins (which honestly doesn’t taste that much better).

His cash starts to dwindle a little on the eighth day, so he has to spend an extra two bucks on processing fees when he withdraws money from an ancient cash machine tucked away in the corner of the diner they’re eating at. The Western-styled breakfast is greasy and salty and his elbows slip on the formica tabletop as they eat, but after ingesting cup noodles at gas stations and toast for breakfast every day at inns along the road, it’s a welcome change for his tastebuds.

“There’s a lakeside town we’ll be passing by that I wanna take a look at,” Hongbin brings up over coffee, and his gaze slides over to Sanghyuk. “Would it be okay with you if we stopped there for a bit?”

“Of course it’ll be,” Sanghyuk frowns. “Why do you ask?”

“We are helping you look for your brother,” Hongbin replies, as though it was obvious. “And we know you’re worried about him and want to find him—”

“But you two are doing me the favour of helping me find him,” Sanghyuk interrupts. His stomach flops weakly. “I’m technically intruding on your vacation, and I haven’t even begun to thank you yet.”

“You’re not intruding on anything,” Wonshik protests, and Sanghyuk’s stomach flops even harder at that. “We  _wanted_  to help you.”

“Besides, we were going to ask you if you wanted to travel along too, search or not,” Hongbin says, prodding Sanghyuk’s cheek. He pouts and twists away from Hongbin, making the elder laugh. “Don’t worry, Sanghyuk. You’re not being bothersome, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“We like having you here,” Wonshik adds. “Travelling with you is fun.”

“I’m glad I’m such a joy to have in the car,” Sanghyuk says, striking a small pose to hide they way his face warms and he feels like he’s back in high school all over again, over the moon at how these two seniors have grown fond of him and actually consider him their friend.

“I’m just glad I don’t have to put up with Wonshik’s snoring alone,” Hongbin snickers, and yelps when Wonshik flings a bit of egg at him in retaliation.

+

They arrive at the lakeside down on day eleven. Hongbin pays for three days’ worth of lodging at a small motel down by the lakefront and they unpack Wonshik’s car properly, heaving their larger bags and supplies up the stairs and to their room. The motel is only two stories and has a rather dingy appearance, but looks are deceiving. It’s a cozy room with two twin beds— smaller than the ones they’ve slept in at larger inns during their trip. The interior is furnished with a wooden, cottage-like design. The chairs are made of wicker and seated low. The lamp has a curled foot and the toilet has an actual chain to pull instead of a handle for flushing. The deck the stairs leads up to has two Muskoka chairs facing the open water, and the breeze that blows by is cooler than any wind Sanghyuk’s felt thus far on their trip.

“When I was volunteering at a clinic during the school year, a travelling couple came by with their dog, who’d gotten sick on their trip,” Hongbin tells Sanghyuk when they’re sorting out their stuff into the drawers. “They told me about this town when I asked them about the highlights of their trip and showed me pictures, and it looked so beautiful. When Wonshik brought up a road trip for the summer, it was definitely a place I wanted to visit.”

“Did it meet your expectations?” Sanghyuk asks, and Hongbin grins, glancing around the motel room.

“I’d say it’s doing a good job so far,” he chuckles. “C’mon, Wonshik’s waiting for us to go exploring.”

Sanghyuk opens his mouth to agree, but the sound dies out when he feels Hongbin’s slender fingers close around his wrist, pulling. Heat flares up his arm and he stumbles along, throat tight at the feeling of Hongbin’s light grip on him. When they arrive at the bottom of the stairs and trek across the parking lot to where Wonshik is leaning against his car, he doesn’t even bat an eyelash at the sight of Hongbin pulling Sanghyuk over.

“Let’s go!” Wonshik shouts, doing a little jump. His excitement is palpable, like a small child’s, though Sanghyuk’s not quite sure what there is to be so pumpd about. “I’m starved, let’s grab a nice lunch to eat.”

Right, he thinks, laughing a little to himself. It was always about food.

+

They do a combination of wandering all over the town together and personal exploring— Hongbin finally busts out his camera and spends hours down by the waterfront, waiting with an infinite amount of patience for the perfect shot. Wonshik does a bit of shopping here and there, sometimes dragging Sanghyuk along to look for souvenirs for his sister and parents, and sometimes the two of them would sit on the benches by the dock and watch Hongbin walk along the beach with his camera. They splurge a little on a seafood dinner and wine on their last day, which leaves the three of them a little tipsy when they finally return to their motel room. Sanghyuk already knows he’ll miss the place; aside from sacrificing comfort for sleeping in the car from now on, the warm, homely interior décor is also something he wishes he could import into his own home and replace the static feeling of it. If there had been one thing he had been looking forwards to at his university, it was the prospect of living in a dorm. It might not be glamorous and he’d certainly have a lot more chores to deal with, but it could also be a little place Sanghyuk could shape for himself and maybe give it some meaning.

He showers first and relaxes under the comfortable spray of water, but when he exits the bathroom, Wonshik and Hongbin are nowhere to be found. Panic seizes him momentarily; the two of them hadn’t wandered off, have they? They’d drank, but Sanghyuk didn’t think they were wasted. He thought about the waterfront, and his heart lurches. He wastes no time throwing on a pair of shorts and t-shirt before making a plan to search outside— but he stops short when he opens the door and sees Wonshik and Hongbin standing on the deck, perfectly safe with their backs to Sanghyuk, apparently absorbed by the view of the lake at night.

Wonshik’s arm is wrapped around Hongbin’s waist, holding him closely and intimately, and Hongbin is leaning against Wonshik’s side. He’s a perfect line that melds right into Wonshik, inseparable in some ways. They haven’t heard Sanghyuk open the door because they’re talking to each other in low voices. Sanghyuk can’t hear what they’re saying exactly, but there’s a way in which they’re tilting their heads together, sharing such a small space so comfortably that makes him feel guilty for staring and admiring.

He feels like an outsider.

Sanghyuk backs away and shuts the door quietly, trying to tamper down the uncomfortable pulse of his heart. He feels woozy now, and he crosses back over to his bed. He slides under the covers, burrowing himself deep despite his still-damp hair, and curls up beneath the sheets.

He’s not sure how long he lies like that, and he might’ve actually dozed off at one point, but then the door opens and Wonshik and Hongbin are walking back into the motel room.

“Sanghyuk?”

He closes his eyes a little tighter, feigning sleep. A hand rests on his shoulder, the touch burning despite the layer of blankets between them, and Wonshik says, “Hyukkie?” once more.

“I think he’s asleep,” Hongbin whispers from somewhere around the end of Sanghyuk’s bed.

Wonshik laughs, and the sound is soft and low. “Still a kid,” he murmurs, and Sanghyuk nearly flinches when Wonshik’s fingers touch his hair, carding through it gently. “His hair is still damp too. The dummy’s gonna get a headache tomorrow morning.”

“You’re gonna be the one with a headache if you don’t sleep any time soon,” Hongbin warns, and the hand leaves his shoulder. Sanghyuk exhales a little in relief.

He listens to his friends tidy, shower, and climb into bed themselves. Wonshik’s grunting snores fill the room quickly after, and that’s when he crawls out from under the covers. He shuffles around cautiously in the dark, searching for his bag, and when his hand closes around the plastic bag tucked under his shirts, Sanghyuk unlocks the door and quietly sneaks outside with it.

It’s quiet at night, save for the rhythmic sloshing of the waves against the shore and some sounds of insects in the dark. There’s a lamp glowing by the doorway of their room, and Sanghyuk slides down into a crouch beneath it, back pressed against the wall as he opens the bag again and takes out the next letter he’s on.

He’s been limiting himself to reading only one of Hakyeon’s letters every day of their trip, trying to slowly work his way through the pile available. All of the letters thus far have been from Taekwoon, although there is a congratulatory card from a woman named Sojin for his graduation and a birthday card from a man named Ryeowook for Hakyeon’s birthday. Taekwoon doesn’t always talk about anything significant; sometimes his letters are simply song recommendations or updates on his job as a teaching assistant for some environmental lectures. There was also a week-long gap between their letters, which Sanghyuk suspects is when Taekwoon went to visit Hakyeon during his convocation. It’s become a bit of a routine for Sanghyuk to wake up each morning and pluck out one of the letters from the pile, reading Taekwoon’s words to Hakyeon whenever he has the time.

But this time, the letter is addressed to Taekwoon instead.

_I’m sorry, Taekwoon. I lied. I’m not working at the learning centre like I’d told you; I got the offer, but I had to turn it down. I’m writing this because my dad has finally put his foot down— he wants me to work in his company, Taekwoon, and I don’t want to. I don’t want to, I hate it, it’s the last thing I want to do, but he’s making me. He said he paid for all the years of my tuition and he won’t pay for teaching school— he’s so backwards, isn’t he? I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how else to deal with this, he’s already so in denial about everything else I love and now he wants me to throw away another one of my dreams— I don’t want this. What do I do? Tell me what to do, Taekwoon?_

His grip on the paper is tight, and Sanghyuk can feel a muscle jumping in his jaw. Even though there’s no signature, there is no doubt that it’s Hakyeon’s writing about his struggles and evidently something he had wanted to hide from Taekwoon before trying to admit the truth.

But he couldn’t, Sanghyuk thinks, turning the letter over. Hakyeon wrote the letter, but he never sent it. Did Taekwoon ever find out? How did Hakyeon ever tell him in the future? And his dreams— what else had their father stopped Hakyeon from doing?

“We’re actually quite alike, aren’t we?” Sanghyuk whispers to himself, and the irony of the situation makes the corners of his mouth curl into a bitter little smile. He thinks of Wonshik and Hongbin, how well they compliment each other and the way his own heart stutters over the way Wonshik smiles and the warmth he feels standing by Hongbin’s side.

He thinks about Hakyeon’s unsent letter, his own unsaid feelings.

The sound of the water rolling up into the sand is slow and mournful now, as though chiding him for tainting the pure night with such depressing thoughts.

+

“Hyukkie,” Wonshik groans, slumped against his side when they’re waiting in line at a quiet coffee shop the next morning. It’s early for all of them, and Hongbin had sent the two of them down to buy coffee. “Hyukkie, please tell me you’ve gotten your driver’s licence by now.”

“Duh,” Sanghyuk says, feeling Wonshik nuzzle his forehead against his shoulder. He reaches out and scratches at his friend’s head, making Wonshik whine and squirm ticklishly.

“Please, drive for today, I’m so tired.”

“You trust me with your baby?” Sanghyuk laughs, shuffling forwards. Wonshik follows without raising his head, like it’s been attached to his shoulder.

“I don’t believe you can drive any worse than my other friends,” Wonshik grunts, and Sanghyuk grins.

It’s a foggy morning out, chilly even, and they bundle up in sweaters Sanghyuk knows they’ll have to strip out of before noon. Hongbin takes shotgun and Wonshik crawls a little pathetically into the backseat, slumping over onto his rucksack the moment Sanghyuk hits the freeway again.

“I told the moron to drink water yesterday night,” Hongbin sighs, sipping his hot drink. “But does he ever listen? No.”

“You two sound like an old married couple,” Sanghyuk snorts, and Hongbin slaps his shoulder half-heartedly. He grips the wheel a little tighter and focuses on the road, aware of the way the vehicle rumbles beneath him, the bit of dust that’s collected on the dashboard and the way the buddha beads clink and sway with every little movement.

Hongbin’s hand appears unexpectedly, landing on Sanghyuk’s wrist as he squeezes gently.

“Don’t be so tense,” Hongbin says. “It’s not your first time driving, is it?”

“ ‘Course not,” Sanghyuk huffs. “I just don’t get to use the car a lot, but I’ve had my licence since the summer of my second year.”

“That’s good,” Hongbin hums. “I never realized how important driving was until I didn’t have the chauffeur to take me around, especially around campus.”

“That is hilarious to me,” Sanghyuk snorts, dodging the next whack that comes his way.

“How are your university plans anyway?” Hongbin asks, slouching down in the seat. He props his feet up on the dashboard since Wonshik isn’t awake to nag at him.  “We caught you up with all we did this year, but what about you?”

“There’s nothing... special about it, I guess,” Sanghyuk mumbles. He scratches the back of his neck and fixes his gaze out into the distance, aware that Hongbin’s watching him. “I’m taking a general languages course in the first year before I can switch over to a specialized one. It’s a lot of filler courses for first year, and perquisites... I dunno, I’ll just have to do all those before anything else.”

There’s a moment of silence before Hongbin says, “Is this what you want to do?”

Sanghyuk chews on his lower lip. “I don’t know,” he admits, and he’s relieved when Hongbin reaches over to ruffle his hair.

“That’s okay too,” Hongbin says, gentle. His words are nearly lost in the lonely sound of the car driving through the low fog. “Sometimes, we can’t always know what we want yet. Even people older than you have no clue. They’re just pretending they do.”

There’s some wisdom in that. He thinks of his parents living separately, Hakyeon’s job and his ex-boyfriend, and his feelings for his two best friends.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Aren’t we all.”

+

It rains. A lot.

Wonshik’s wipers work overtime as they drive down considerably quieter roads now, the pavement reduced to single-lane travel. They’d rarely see other cars now, though giant trucks doing their own transcontinental travel would zoom by, splashing their poor little car as they drive, and Sanghyuk would watch the rivulets of water slide across the window, wiggling like tadpoles on a journey that vanishes from sight when they reach the edge of the glass.

The windows mist up at night when they sleep in the car, shivering from the cold and the dampness that clings despite their perfectly dry interior. Wonshik and Sanghyuk curl up in sleeping bags and Hongbin makes do with some weird blanket cocoon because they’re one short. Sanghyuk wishes he’d had the sense to pack an extra sweater or two, not realizing that it could still feel cold despite the heated summery days. 

He tries not to read Hakyeon’s letters for so long either; the paper has a tendency to curl and go limp in the moisture-laden air. Their nightly rituals include Wonshik and Hongbin reclining their seats back and Sanghyuk slotting himself onto the seat under their chairs. It’s cramped, but manageable, even if his toes freeze from where he’s forced to prop them up against the glass because of his height. Wonshik would bring up a random topic and Hongbin would chat with him while Sanghyuk read a letter, and once he’s done he’d tuck the letter back into his bag and pitch into the conversation. They’d talk late into the night, time only told by the glow-in-the-dark arms of Wonshik’s wristwatch, and one by one they’d drop off to sleep.

The morning comes with either heavier rains or a faint, fuzzy drizzle, making them feel like creaky old men when they sit up, attempt to eat cold instant foods and get ready to drive again. Hongbin’s taken a liking to photographing the rainfall at extremely slow shutter speeds while Wonshik warms the car up. Meanwhile, Sanghyuk’s learned how to pee into more bushes than he can bother recounting by now.

He wonders if he should put that on his resume, and laughs quietly to himself.

+

“Never have I ever tried to break into the wrong dorm thinking it was my own,” Wonshik smirks, and Hongbin scoffs loudly as he pops a sour skittle into his mouth. His expression scrunches up and the car actually wobbles as he squeezes the steering wheel too tightly. Sanghyuk laughs, partially at Hongbin’s face and partially at the games they’ve been reduced to playing after seventeen days of travel.

“Never have I ever gone to the bathroom in a public pool,” he says next, and Hongbin shouts, “AHA!” while Wonshik groans.

“I was fucking four, okay, I didn’t know,” he grouses. “Alright... never have I ever liked more than one person at once.”

“Oh,  _c’mon_ ,” Hongbin yells, snatching a skittle out of the bag angrily. Sanghyuk’s heart nearly stops in his chest when he sees Wonshik snicker and chew on a skittle too. He swallows the sour treat quietly, wincing at the sharp taste.

He almost doesn’t want to know what this could possibly mean.

+

_I regret breaking up with you. I regret it every single day of my life. Even though you know that I still love you, and even though you know that I won’t have anyone but you, I regret it. I remembered seeing that look in your eyes when I came crying to you that day— you already knew, didn’t you? You knew I was going to force us apart. You didn’t even let me talk. I couldn’t get the words out but you just pulled me close and told me you’d wait for as long as it takes. That makes everything worse, I think. You’re too fucking selfless Taekwoon. Who do you think you are? Why would you let yourself get hurt so easily for me? I’m crying just thinking about you now. Maybe one day when I find an out, I’ll come back and I’ll tell you off properly, but who knows when that’ll be? It’s too much. I am sorry. I am so sorry._

“Is it interesting?”

Sanghyuk tears his eyes away from the swiggles of Hakyeon’s writing. Wonshik is watching him from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the hood of the car, a curious expression on his face. They’ve broken away from the rainy lull of their road trip now; it’s cloudy and Sanghyuk’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen the sun for nearly five days, but there’s no rain and the ground isn’t wet anymore. Wonshik is braving the slightly warmer weather with shorts and one of Hongbin’s t-shirts while Sanghyuk chooses to go with his track pants instead.

“It’s pretty personal,” Sanghyuk admits. He passes the letter over to Wonshik, who takes it and skims over the words. “I’m learning a lot more about Hakyeon with these letters, especially the ones he never sent... but I’m also being intrusive.”

“He sounds miserable,” Wonshik murmurs, touching the surface of the paper. Sanghyuk laughs hollowly, looking over to where Hongbin is picking out fresh fruits from a roadside fruit stand a few meters away from their parked car.

“Nobody in my family is ever happy,” Sanghyuk shakes his head. “Mom and dad were never happy with one another, Hakyeon wasn’t happy with dad, and I wasn’t happy with mom. Our whole existence is one miserable joke.”

“What about with each other?” Wonshik asks. “The two of you. Weren’t you ever happy?”

“Maybe,” Sanghyuk hums. He flicks some winged insect off his arm and watches it take to the air. “We were— civil, I think. We never really knew each other. Dad moved away when Hakyeon was ten and then took custody of him when he was fourteen. I was what, nine? We never had the chance to really act like brothers; if anything, he treated me with the kind of politeness an older kid would to a younger one.”

“And being civil isn’t the same as being friends, is it?” Wonshik prods, his expression sad for Sanghyuk. He laughs again, lowering his head.

“I’m ignorant about him. I might’ve liked him and I could’ve also hated him too, who knows. But here I am, running across the country looking for him regardless of whatever we could’ve been.”

“This could be your chance,” Wonshik says. He takes the envelope from Sanghyuk’s limp fingers and tucks the letter back into it before hopping up onto the car to sit next to Sanghyuk. “And whether you’ll find a brother you like or discover that you actually hate his guts, what’s important is that you finally have the chance to meet for real.”

“Spoken like a true family man,” Sanghyuk grins. He hides the bit of dampness in his eyes by tossing an arm around Wonshik’s shoulders, giving the elder a shake. “Are you missing your own sister, by any chance? Worried that some boy’ll come by and try to flirt with her while you’re on this trip?”

“Over my cold dead body,” Wonshik hisses, and Sanghyuk laughs and laughs until Hongbin returns with a basket of ripe, red apples.

+

They reach Taekwoon’s city on the nineteenth day of travel, and Sanghyuk is suddenly struck by the painful realization that he’s not ready for this to end. As to what it  _is_  that’s ending, exactly, he’s not certain either. Was it the driving together, eating together, and bickering over directions? Or was it the moments he’d wake up to hear Hongbin murmuring quietly in his sleep, seeing Wonshik’s relaxed expression in the light of the setting sun, or watching the way the sky would fly by with the window rolled down, summer air surrounding him as he imagined what it might be like to be up there looking down at their little car? He’s not ready to face Hakyeon and Taekwoon. He isn’t ready to part with Wonshik and Hongbin. He’s not ready as a  _person_ , even.

He feels tormented.

“This is it,” Wonshik says, shading his eyes as he stares up at the narrow apartment building overlooking a bustling street. It felt strange being in the city again, with all its noise and overbearing heat. Even the open countryside, with a distinct lack of trees and shade, the burning tarmac hadn’t felt so stiflingly hot.

“Want us to come up with you?” Hongbin asks, and Sanghyuk nods numbly. He’s sure it’ll be awkward as hell for all of them, but he’s scared— he doesn’t want to do this alone.

The cold breath of the air conditioning creeps down his back all the way through the lobby and in the elevator. He catches sight of himself in the mirror and he shivers at his own appearance. The shirt he’s wearing is the one with the least amount of wrinkles in it already, and his hair is mussed up all over his head. He hasn’t shaved for days and the prickly whiskers are evident on his cheeks and chin. In short, he looks pretty damn messy.

Unit 10A seems to echo when he raps his knuckles against it. Behind him, Wonshik adjusts his hat nervously, and Sanghyuk squeezes his hands into fists at his sides. His heart thuds in his chest, and thinks he might pass out from how light-headed he feels.

He’s not ready. He isn’t ready.

There’s the sound of the door unlocking, opening, and Sanghyuk inhales sharply. He has no idea what Taekwoon looks like, but he’s banking on the fact that he could remember what Hakyeon looked like when he was twenty-one, which was the last time Sanghyuk actually saw him. Short hair, round face, eyes like their mother’s—

The door opens, and it is not Hakyeon standing in the doorway.

It wasn’t even Taekwoon.

+

“ ‘ _Not here_ ’?” Sanghyuk repeats, dizzy. He stares down at the young woman standing in the doorway. She’s slim, with a bright look in her eye and a wide smile, and introduced herself as Hyerim. She’s presently regarding the three of them with a contemplative look, like she couldn’t understand why they were here at once.

“To be honest, you missed Taekwoon by a full week,” Hyerim shakes her head. “He left last Tuesday evening.”

Sanghyuk opens his mouth and grasps for his words. He feels shocked, and then he feels dumb, like he’s making a big deal out of nothing. But he’d been preparing to see his brother for so long, trying to work out how that would go exactly, that he hadn’t realized that Hakyeon and Taekwoon  _not being there_  could’ve been a possibility. “W-where did they go?”

“Taekwoon’s an environmentalist. He’s out doing field research at a friend’s place, so I’m housesitting for him.”

“Did Hakyeon go with him?” Sanghyuk blurts out, and Hyerim looks surprised.

“You— know Hakyeon?”

“I’m his younger brother. I came looking for Hakyeon after he ran away from my father,” Sanghyuk tells her, imploring, and he must look crazy, showing up out of the blue and harassing this poor woman. He’s almost frightened that she won’t believe him, because he’s just so disjointed from his family, isn’t he? How could he prove it to her?

But Hyerim’s expression simply melts into one of sympathetic understanding. “I thought you looked a little familiar,” she says. “Hakyeon showed me one of the pictures he keeps of you in his wallet. I had no idea you’d heard that he’d gone off on your dad though.”

“It’s a long story,” Sanghyuk says, rubbing his temple. Relief at Hyerim’s recognition washes over him like a tidal wave of cool water. “I just— I have to see him. I wanted to find him, see if he’s okay.”

Hyerim taps her lip, eyes lowering as she thinks. “Hakyeon left with Taekwoon. I can give you the address for the place— it’s a farm, actually. It’s very remote and it’ll take you at least three days to get up there.”

“We’ve been on a road trip for twenty-one days,” Wonshik interjects, gesturing wanly at their appearances. “A few more days won’t hurt.”

Hyerim laughs a crisp, happy laugh, tells them to wait a moment, and returns with a printout of a map and an address scrawled into the bit of blank space on the side with a pink marker.

“It’s not a difficult route,” she promises, uncapping a highlighter with her teeth as she colours in one of the highways on the paper. “Take the northbound freeway and switch over to route 606 later on. The farm belongs to a man by the surname of Lee; you’ll have to take a bit of a drive up to his actual home even though a lot of the surrounding land is actually his.”

Hyerim holds out the map to them, and Sanghyuk takes it with shaky fingers. “Thank you,” he tells her honestly, and Hyerim smiles at him.

“Goodluck,” she says, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. The door closes behind them as they leave, and Sanghyuk holds it together until they get back to the car.

“Sanghyuk—” Hongbin says, his voice tight but Wonshik is already pulling Sanghyuk close, wrapping him up in a hug. It’s a little awkward because Sanghyuk is already taller than his two older friends, but right now he feels small, and Wonshik’s embrace is shielding him from the unrelenting hustle of the city. A moment later, he feels Hongbin’s hand sliding through his hair, petting him gently. He wonders what his expression must’ve been like for them to fret over him like this.

“Sorry,” he whispers thickly. He grasps the sides of Wonshik’s shirt and tries to breathe, to calm his toiling mind. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“Shh,” Wonshik mumbles, the sound low, and Hongbin’s fingers never stop moving through his hair.

“Don’t apologize,” Hongbin tells him softly. Sanghyuk squeezes his eyes shut and shakes in Wonshik’s hold. “It’s alright, Sanghyuk.”

“I just wanted Hakyeon to be there,” he chokes out, and he feels more than sees Wonshik and Hongbin exchange looks, but that doesn’t matter.

He never wanted to care this much.

+

They book a hotel room for the night after Wonshik’s firm belief that they all needed a proper rest. Nobody argues that. It’s a quiet night of cleaning and unpacking, of ordering in and eating their meals while some drama plays on the television. They try to catch up on the news they’ve missed for the past month or so, all crammed together on one bed.

When it feels like they’ve all wound down considerably and talking no longer feels like he’s wedged a rock into his throat, Sanghyuk decides he should talk to the others.

He owes them that much after how they’ve taken care of him and brought him all this way, after all.

“I thought this trip would help me find something,” he says without prelude. Wonshik and Hongbin both look over at him and Sanghyuk pushes himself up, looking down at the faded duvet tossed over his legs, pulling at one of the threads.

“Sanghyuk?” Wonshik asks, touching his back lightly, and Sanghyuk shivers.

“I thought— finding Hakyeon would help me prove something, to myself, maybe,” he whispers. Insecurity prickles at his insides. “I felt so lost now that I’ve left high school, I’m studying by myself at university and it’s something nobody in my family approved of— and then I found a chance to do something different. I thought I could go on some radical journey and do something about myself, but—” he cuts off, a cold, derisive laugh forcing its way up. “Fuck, in the end, I couldn’t change a damn thing about my pathetic existence at all.”

Fingers seize his chin and pulls his gaze upwards to Hongbin’s. His friend looks  _angry_ , and it startles Sanghyuk momentarily.

“Don’t you dare say that,” Hongbin says, low and fierce. “You’re not pathetic, Sanghyuk. I’ve told you before that it’s okay to not know what you want right now. It’s not a crime to feel lost.”

“But I—” Sanghyuk begins, and then he has to stop, because Hongbin is leaning forwards and he’s kissing Sanghyuk.

His heart slams against his ribcage and his mouth goes slack. Hongbin’s lips are soft against his, softer than Sanghyuk would’ve ever dreamed of, and he doesn’t know what to  _do_.

Hongbin pulls away, fingers lingering on Sanghyuk’s chin, and his gaze flickers over Sanghyuk’s shoulder to Wonshik.

He feels Wonshik’s around him a moment later, tugging Sanghyuk back until he falls against Wonshik’s chest and is held, cradled, against his friend.

“You aren’t alone,” Wonshik says quietly, brushing his knuckles against Sanghyuk’s cheek. He swallows harshly and blinks up at the two of them. The smile on Wonshik’s face is heartbreakingly sweet as he bends down, brushing his lips against Sanghyuk’s too. The angle is a little off but the kiss is full of warmth, and Wonshik’s always been the one to pour out his emotions when he’s moved. It’s familiar and comforting, and when Wonshik finally moves away Hongbin is back, kissing Sanghyuk with a little more vigour now, like he’s trying to melt them together. He groans, heat sweeping through his stomach and lifts a hand to touch Hongbin’s face. The other find’s Wonshik’s and he holds fast.

“I missed you guys,” he confesses between kisses, between Hongbin pushing himself onto Sanghyuk’s lap and Wonshik’s mouth pressing softly into his neck. “I missed you two so much— ever since you left—” he moans, trembling when Hongbin kisses the corner of his mouth and trails his fingers down his sides.

“We missed you too, Hyukkie,” Wonshik murmurs, his voice reverberating by Sanghyuk’s ear. “So,  _so_  much— we’re sorry we couldn’t be there for you.”

He allows himself to melt into their embrace, welcoming the slow kind of love they’re showing him to let him know he’s really not alone anymore.

He allows himself to finally kiss back.

+

Sanghyuk reads the last letter in Hakyeon’s bundle on their last night on the road. Wonshik had parked the car in a roadside lot that's empty save for an old fire pit, tucked away in the corner of the gravel-covered area, and an animal-proof trash bin. It’s evidently a stop for travellers, and they take advantage of that for the night.

By the flickering light of their small campfire, Sanghyuk opens the final envelope and pulls out its contents: a small sheet of paper and a folded photograph.

_I found this when I was moving some things and I thought I’d send it to you. I love you, Hakyeon, more than you’ll ever know. You are my world. - J.T._

The photo is folded in half, and when he spreads it open on his lap, Sanghyuk can immediately recognize Hakyeon. The unfamiliar, dark-haired man next to him must be Taekwoon, and it feels a little better to finally put a face to the name. It appears to be late autumn in the photograph, where the ground is covered with leaves and both men, bundled up in coats and scarves, kissing beneath a sprawling tree with beautiful golden leaves. Hakyeon’s hands holds Taekwoon’s face, his touch gentle even through the two-dimensional image, and Taekwoon’s arms are wrapped around Hakyeon’s waist, holding Hakyeon close to him. Their posture and expressions are so relaxed and comfortable that Sanghyuk finds himself relaxing involuntarily too— after reading so many letters of Hakyeon’s own descriptions of his unsaid, emotional pain, there’s a strange feeling of catharsis in seeing his brother so  _happy_.

He’s come to realize that Taekwoon was never Hakyeon’s ex, not when they had never really broken up at all.

“Is that Taekwoon?” Hongbin asks, peering over Sanghyuk’s shoulder, and he nods.

“I guess he really loves my brother,” Sanghyuk murmurs, and he lets Hongbin pluck the photo out of his hands as he tips over to lay his head on Sanghyuk’s lap.

“You know, after travelling with you for so long on this search, I’m kinda curious as to what kind of a person your brother and his boyfriend is,” Wonshik says, sitting down beside the pair of them. Sanghyuk accepts the bit of canned food Wonshik holds out to him with a smile, and gets a broad grin and a light pinch to the cheek in return.

“We’ll find out tomorrow,” Hongbin hums. “We’re almost there.”

“This is the last letter in the whole bundle too,” Sanghyuk adds, holding up the plastic bag. It contains twenty-three letters, a mixture of Taekwoon’s and Hakyeon’s, and holds an entire chapter of the lovers’ life in the form of paper and ink.

“Fitting,” Hongbin laughs, holding the photo back out to Sanghyuk. He takes it, folds it, and puts the envelope back away inside the back. And this time, he seals it for good.

+

The house Hyerim told them the man named Lee lives in reminds Sanghyuk of the lakeside motel they stayed at. It’s made of wood and the shingles patterned on the two-storey house is a deep, attractive kind of red. A small garden grows out front and there’s a wonderful collection of wind chimes that fills the air with bright, tinkling sounds. But there’s also an incredible set-up of machines on some kind of platform beside the garden, and there’s a van with some kind of strange, meterological equipment attached its roof. A plain grey pick-up truck is parked next to it, as dusty and worn as Wonshik’s car looks after their trip. 

Sanghyuk walks slowly up to the porch, taking the house in. The front door is open, separating the interior of the house from the outside with screen door. He knocks loudly on the wood, making it rattle a little frame.

“Coming!” a voice shouts from somewhere inside, shockingly loud, and a moment later a figure comes hobbling into view. It’s a young man, probably not older than Hakyeon, and he’s got a mess of light brown curls on his head. As he nears, it’s evident that he’s hobbling because one of his legs is in a cast and he’s walking with the assistance of a crutch.

“Hello,” the man says, pushing the screen door open. His expression is friendly and he gazes from Hongbin to Sanghyuk to Wonshik with open curiosity. “How may I help you?”

“My name is Sanghyuk,” Sanghyuk says, unfurling his fingers from where they’d unconsciously sound themselves into the hem of his shirt. “Are you Mister Lee?”

“That’ll be me,” the man nods, extending his hand for a shake. His grasp is strong. “Call me Jaehwan, I’ll feel old if you add ‘mister’ to my name.”

Wonshik laughs softly from behind him, and Sanghyuk smiles up at Jaehwan.

“I’m here because I heard that my older brother Hakyeon travelled here with an environmentalist named Jung Taekwoon. There’s been some turmoil in our family, and I came because I wanted to see if Hakyeon was alright.”

“I see,” Jaehwan answers. He looks surprised, and momentarily unsure of what to do. Then he jerks his head and says, “You know what, why don’t you come in? Taekwoon and Hakyeon aren’t here right now— they’re out doing some fieldwork, but I can radio them and let them know you’re here.”

Sanghyuk’s heart leaps in his chest. “Thank you,” he says breathlessly, and receives another bright smile in return as Jaehwan steps back and leads them into his house.

They seat themselves on one of the mismatched sofas in the living room, which holds bookcases of rather academic-looking volumes but also a whole bottom shelf of what looked like Japanese manga as well. A laptop with its screensaver flashing across the screen on sits on a desk in front of a window, and painted portraits hang over the pastel blue walls. A piano stands in the opposite corner of the room, dusty on the top, but the seat looks like it’s been recently moved.

Jaehwan limps about for a couple of minutes or so, bringing them some biscuits and ice tea before retrieving a rather bulky radio set. He fervently denied all three of their offers to help, and after hearing a bit of static, Jaehwan makes the radio call from somewhere in the kitchen.

“They’re on their way back,” he tells the trio when he walks back into the living room. He falls onto the plush armchair and flashes them a grin. “Taekwoon was sampling a bit of pond water in the woods, so all they have to do is pack up and drive back to the house. They won’t be long. Hakyeon in particular sounded pretty rushed to come back,” he adds, giving Sanghyuk a wink.

“Thank you so much,” Sanghyuk says, exhaling softly. Jaehwan waves them off.

“Since we have time to kill, we should get to know each other,” he grins. “I don’t believe in staying strangers after I meet someone; it’s always good to make new friends, right?”

They learn that Jaehwan has just finished his last year of post-secondary schooling and is employed on the farm— which is actually his father’s— as an agricultural meteorologist. He’s friends with Taekwoon because they happened to take an earth & resources course during their undergraduate years, and since then had remained friends. Jaehwan had also broken his leg after falling off the roof of his house trying to fix one of his many-pronged instruments set up there, and thus had to call Taekwoon in to help him look after the farm until his leg healed. Hakyeon had tagged along, and according to Jaehwan, thoroughly enjoyed mother-henning him and exploring the open farmland.

“So you drove all the way from the east?” Jaehwan splutters. “Damn, that must’ve been a trip.”

“It could’ve gone a lot worse,” Hongbin shudders. “We tried a road trip in the winter, and let me tell you, I have never actually felt so much  _cold_  overall in my entire life.”

Jaehwan throws his head back and laughs— it sounds like a witch’s cackle and nearly drowns out the sound of a car door closing outside, but it doesn’t escape Sanghyuk’s notice. He stands, startling the others, and stumbles out of the small space between the sofa and the coffee table. There are voices outside, indistinct, but his heart pounds regardless. He can’t take his eyes away from the screen door. He’s waited for so long, spent so much time travelling all this way, and the sense of anticipation is slowly killing him.

And then, finally, the door opens, and Hakyeon walks in.

Somehow, his brother looks the same and different.

Sanghyuk doesn’t know how to describe it; Hakyeon’s still sporting the same haircut with the fringe, still moves with a kind of easy grace, and he’s still got a tiny sparkle in his eye that Sanghyuk had almost forgotten about. He’s also thinner, more tanned from spending time in the sun, and there’s a tattoo inked into the skin on the inside of his elbow that certainly hadn’t been there three years ago.

But despite the differences, the recognition that lights up in Hakyeon’s eyes is still undoubtably such a Hakyeon thing that he knows it’s him, it’s his older brother.

The tears well up before he can stop himself, and Sanghyuk walks forwards, picking up the pace as he lets out a weak gasp. The weight of all his family problems— his father’s anger, his mother’s indifference, his own doubts about his place and his uncertainty about the future— crashes down to his feet as he launches himself at Hakyeon. Hakyeon’s arms immediately wrap around him, hugging Sanghyuk so tightly that he feels the air being squeezed out of his lungs. He chokes, crying for real now, and they sink to the floor clinging to one another.

“Next time, take me with you,” Sanghyuk gasps into the fabric of Hakyeon’s shirt. He hears his brother make a distressed kind of noise, and he cries even harder. “Take me with you next time, don’t— don’t leave,” he breaks off, voice straining with the force of his sobs and the desperation that spills out of him. “Don’t leave me behind like mom and dad did.”

“I’m sorry,” Hakyeon whispers, even though there’s no reason he should apologize. Sanghyuk should be the one spilling out the apologies. “I am sorry, Sanghyuk. I couldn’t stay.”

“I know,” he answers, heart aching. “I know. It’s not your fault.”

“Can we start it all over?” Hakyeon asks, sniffling, and Sanghyuk lets out a watery little laugh.

“We should,” he says, moving back to sit on his ankles. Hakyeon wipes at his eyes, red-rimmed and tear-filled as Sanghyuk’s own, and gives Sanghyuk a shaky smile.

“I couldn’t believe it when Jaehwan said you were here. But you’re real. You’re actually here. I can’t believe my eyes.”

“I made my friends drive for twenty-three days across the country to look for you. You best believe I’m real,” Sanghyuk jokes, and that only makes Hakyeon cry even harder and throw his arms around Sanghyuk’s neck, holding him tightly.

He smiles through his tears and hugs his brother back, because it had never occurred to him before that, after everything he’s been through, Hakyeon might’ve needed somebody that was willing to try and search for him for as long as Sanghyuk had.

+

Wonshik calculates that they can spend up to a maximum of eighteen days at the farm before they’ll have to make the return trip back to the city. Jaehwan lets them stay, and the tradeoff is that they’ll help him out around the place and contribute to the grocery bill. It’s a fair deal considering most of Jaehwan’s idea of ‘work’ consists of them keeping him company and cooking, so they wander through the land helping Taekwoon with his work instead.

Sanghyuk returns Hakyeon’s letters to his brother and Taekwoon sometime during their stay, quietly admitting that he’d gone through them during his trip.

“I’d forgotten about these,” Hakyeon murmurs from where he and Taekwoon are sitting on the rug in front of Jaehwan’s fire place, sipping on coffee after dinner. He takes the bag of letters from Sanghyuk gingerly. His smile is tight and there’s a bit of sadness reflected in his eyes. “I tied them all up and threw them into that bag you’re using and left it all at your place three winters ago.”

Taekwoon’s arm tightens around Hakyeon’s shoulders, gently pulling Hakyeon against his side.

“I brought them with me unknowingly,” Sanghyuk says, perching himself on the edge of the sofa. Hakyeon laughs softly, shaking his head.

“That’s when dad made me work for his company,” Hakyeon says, monotone. “He also told me he didn’t approve of me dating Taekwoon— so I had to pack everything away. All these letters; I cried whenever I read them. I couldn’t keep any of it, but I didn’t want to throw it away either. Ironic how you’ve brought them back to me now when I’ve finally decided to leave dad for good.”

“You’re not going to work for him anymore?” Sanghyuk asks, and Hakyeon shakes his head.

“I don’t want him controlling my life anymore,” he says, quiet determination in his voice. He holds the bag back out to Sanghyuk. “I can’t keep on lingering in the past. You can take these.”

“What do you want me to do with them?” Sanghyuk asks, accepting the bundle. Hakyeon tilts his head, thinking, and shrugs with a little laugh.

“It doesn’t matter,” his brother replies, smiling warmly at Sanghyuk. “Put them back in my bag, throw them out— whatever you like. I think I’m ready to move on to a different part of my life.”

“If that’s what you want,” Sanghyuk nods, folding the bundle into his lap, and Hakyeon sends him a grateful smile as he stands. Taekwoon’s arm slides off his shoulders and the quiet man makes a noise of disapproval.

“Oh, shush, I’m just getting more coffee,” Hakyeon chides, stepping over Taekwoon’s long legs, and he disappears into the kitchen, where Jaehwan, Wonshik, and Hongbin have been playing a very loud game of poker for quite a while now.

He wait until Hakyeon is out of sight before opening the bag and pulling out the last envelope in the pile.

“Here,” Sanghyuk says, holding it out to Taekwoon. Taekwoon blinks at him, but he takes the envelope with an questioning expression on his face. “It’s a beautiful picture,” Sanghyuk hints. “I thought you’d might like to have it back, even if Hakyeon says he wants to move on from the contents of this bundle.”

Taekwoon’s fingers tremble ever so slightly as he pulls the photo out of the envelope, and by the warm glow of the firelight Sanghyuk can see the softness of the man’s smile easing away the stoics of his expression into something a little more vulnerable and fond.

“Thank you, Sanghyuk,” Taekwoon whispers, cradling the photograph in his palms, and Sanghyuk chuckles as he slides off the armrest and onto the comforts of the sofa.

“No problem,” he replies, and relaxes into the pillows as he watches the flames flicker in the fireplace.

+

Wonshik and Hongbin are sitting together on the sloping roof above the porch when Sanghyuk walks back into the guest room, hair still damp from his shower.

“Hey,” Wonshik calls to him, beaming, and waves him over. “Come and join us.”

“You do remember that Jaehwan literally broke his leg after falling off his roof, right?” Sanghyuk says, tossing his towel onto the bed. He climbs through the small, open window anyway, and squeezes himself between Hongbin and Wonshik.

“He was on the second storey,” Wonshik dismisses. “We’ll be fine.”

“Stop trying to be hip and teen-like,” Sanghyuk jokes. He accepts the cotton blanket Hongbin places around his shoulders and catches one of Hongbin’s hand. He grasps one of Wonshik’s, on his other side, and tugs them together until all three of them are holding hands in some big, tangled mess on Sanghyuk’s lap.

“I’m just enjoying the view, okay?” Wonshik huffs, but he’s pressing a quick kiss to Sanghyuk’s cheek all the same.

“Not much of a view though,” Hongbin snickers. “It’s overcast tonight, you can hardly see the stars.”

“I’m just trying to enjoy the vastness of the land around us, okay? It doesn’t always have to be stargazing.”

“Why stare at the stars when you can just look at us?” Sanghyuk asks, nonchalant, and Hongbin cringes at the cheesiness while Wonshik laughs and laughs.

“Now you two I can call a view,” he smirks, and Hongbin actually tries to stick out his leg and kick him.

“Horrible,” he huffs. “I didn’t come here to subject myself to bad flirtations.”

“I literally don’t know what else you would’ve expected.”

“I will leave,” Hongbin threatens, and Sanghyuk immediately tightens his grip on Hongbin’s hand.

“I won’t let you,” he pouts, playing up his youthfulness to his advantage, and to his surprise Hongbin’s cheeks flush with colour and he looks away.

“Stop trying to act cute,” he grumbles.

“What a handsome profile,” Wonshik giggles, purposefully laying it on thick, just to see Hongbin cringe and blush again.

They stay out until it the coolness of the summer night begins to raise goosebumps on their arms, and they’re forced to crawl back inside and warm up under the tiny bed they’ve piled upon.

“You know, I meant to ask you this a while back,” Hongbin murmurs as he kisses up Sanghyuk’s bare shoulder, making the younger fidget at the sensation. “About proving yourself, on this trip.”

“Yeah?” Sanghyuk breathes, stomach fluttering as he feels Wonshik’s fingertips trail down his abdomen, his touch feather-light, and whimpers softly when he splays his palm across Sanghyuk’s belly.

“Do you think you’ve proven something to yourself?” Hongbin asks, moving so he’s eye level with Sanghyuk as he asks his question. “Now that you’ve found your brother, do you think you’ve found it?”

Sanghyuk pauses, considering his answer. It’s not that he doesn’t know what to say— in fact, he knows the exact answer to that particular question— he just needs to figure out how to word it properly.

“I think,” he begins, fingers grasping Wonshik’s wrist as Wonshik traces nonsensical patters onto his skin. “After everything that’s happened on this trip, searching for Hakyeon, finding Hakyeon, and— and this,” he adds, gesturing between Hongbin and Wonshik. “I think it was never about proving myself all along. What I needed was the courage to stop living so apathetically and let life steamroll its way over me.”

He gasps when Hongbin kisses his sternum, lips heated over his skin, and he feels Wonshik’s fond sigh as he reaches over and cups Hongbin’s face with one of his free hands.

“You’ve always had the courage,” Wonshik tells Sanghyuk, kissing the spot below Sanghyuk’s ear. “You just needed to find a way to show it.”

“And I’m glad I did,” Sanghyuk replies, closing his eyes. It feels as though all time has to stopped right there in the tiny guest room, and perhaps it’s arrogant of him to think that the entirety of the universe might come to a halt for his little revelation, but Sanghyuk doesn’t mind right now.

He started this trip with the mistake of trying to search for a way to give meaning in his life when he couldn’t see his own strength— the kind that came genuinely from his heart and his being. With that strength, he’s found his brother and he’s found not just one love, but  _two_  loves.

And, most importantly, Sanghyuk knows that he’s finally able to find himself.

+

_End_

**Author's Note:**

> I used to travel a lot in cars and into more rural areas when I was younger. this fic was also part me romanticizing the shit outta what are usually incredibly stuffy and dull trips while giving sad Sanghyuk some love. and in the end, who is it that is being forgiven, really? was there any forgiving needed at all? that is the question i will leave here.
> 
> thank you for reading!


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